


And Just Accept

by Melodious329



Series: Forget About Forgiving [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie's lover is kidnapped forcing him to confront some of his personal issues. Mac refuses to help and what is the old man up to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Just Accept

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue

Gregor moved through the dark apartment as quietly as possible. Even without being able to see, he picked his way easily through to the bedroom and stood next to the bed. The only portion of his lover visible in the dim light was the still short red blonde hair. The older immortal smiled down, noting how the bundle of blankets that contained the young man had drifted onto Gregor's side of the bed as if seeking his absent partner.

Gregor wasn't really that late getting back from a friend's whose dark room the older immortal used on occasion. But he knew that his young lover had passed out on the bed as soon as the last final was done that afternoon. Richie had begun taking a few courses at the Seacouver University part-time, mostly business and psychology, and the youngster had been spent almost every hour of the past week studying. The dark haired man removed his clothes, silently dropping them to the floor before climbing in behind his partner.

Richie's skin was warm from sleep and soft as a baby's Gregor thought as he pulled the fair-skinned back into his chest. Richie stirred slightly, moving to press even more firmly against his lover. The scent of the young man drifted into Gregor's senses and he reveled in the feeling of contentment that just holding Richie brought.

Still almost asleep, the youngster slowly rocked his naked hips against his older partner's semi-hardness, causing Gregor's breath to catch in his throat. The older man snaked a hand over a warm thigh to grasp the corresponding hardness of his partner and Richie's resultant moan was a soft exhalation of breath, his drowsiness making him uncharacteristically compliant. Gregor stopped his stroking long enough to reach over into the bedside drawer to remove the lubricant.

Richie responded to his return by turning his face upwards to receive a slow drawn out kiss. Gregor slid one arm under Richie's head while the other teased over the other man's shoulder then torso and finally his thigh. The younger immortal lifted his top leg in unspoken invitation. Wasting no time, two fingers were gently inserted causing Richie to burrow his face into his partner's bicep. Gregor removed his fingers and slid inside his lover with practiced ease, reaching around to firmly stroke his partner's cock as well. Richie was moving languidly between the two stimuli and Gregor stilled, letting the young man drive them toward completion. Then Richie stopped moving, his body suddenly tense, his mouth opening in a whispered cry. The warm fluid spurted over Gregor's hand as the older man thrust more forcefully and bit down on a creamy shoulder.

They lay there panting for a moment until Gregor turned onto his back, drawing Richie to lie along his side. The younger man seemed even more exhausted now and he sighed as he got into a comfortable position against his lover. Following the sigh, Richie murmured so soft that Gregor almost missed it, "I love you Greg."

Gregor was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He felt like the whole world had burst into brighter colors and that everything was somehow better, sweeter. The older immortal knew why Richie was hesitant to say the words, the young man felt that saying it aloud was a sure way for something terrible to happen and Gregor had almost convinced himself that hearing the words wouldn't make a difference. Almost. He couldn't resist squeezing the warm body in his arms just a little tighter and laying a soft kiss amidst the red curls, but fortunately Richie was too tired to notice.

The next morning it was as if nothing had happened but Gregor knew it had and that knowledge made everything seem more exciting. He'd been going on and on about his current project at his boring desk job for a few minutes when he noticed Richie staring at him intently. The older man stilled immediately, waiting for what he knew was coming. Richie's hand was soft as it touched his face; his lips were curved in a slight smile before they met Gregor's own. The kiss was short, a simple pressing together of lips and when they parted, Richie's look was slightly patronizing. And yet the ritual never failed to send the older man's heart into arrhythmia. In those moments, Richie's love was a palpable thing that surrounded Gregor.

The feeling stayed with him as Gregor walked out to his car. It was quickly replaced by the feeling of pain however as the immortal felt a knife unexpectedly enter his heart. All he could think of as he was stuffed into the passenger side of his own car by a mortal man was that maybe Richie had been right, saying the words out loud was a bad idea.

His next breath found him tied tightly to a hard wooden chair. Once the pain in his chest subsided, he managed to look at his current surroundings. The chair he was sitting in appeared to be a dining room chair and he was in a nicely furnished if old-fashioned bedroom. He did not recognize anything in the room but he did recognize the female voice that suddenly spoke to him. He twisted trying to look at the speaker.

"Hello lover," the woman's voice was low and quiet causing Gregor to stop his movements in order to hear. "Surprised to see me again?"

She moved into his line of vision, unhurried. Gregor looked her over, noting that little had changed besides her clothes. She was of average height, maybe four inches shorter than himself, and her build was slight, her features fine and elfin, her hair long, colored a dirty blonde. Overall she gave off an air of fragility; she screamed 'protect me'. He had once tried to do just that. Now the look was ruined by the sneer that contorted her features.

His response to her question was terse, "Under these circumstances, yes." She squatted down so that they were eye-level. Her eyes were a pale grey as they wandered over his face, looking at him almost lovingly…and possessively. He remembered that look.

*Flashback*

**Gregor lay on the bed, naked, exposed, staring at the ceiling. He could feel her eyes on him, her tiny hand stroking over his ribs. How had he gotten here, to this point where he could barely stand to look at her?

They had met shortly after MacLeod had dropped him off in a new town, to start over again. As a doctor he was quickly accepted by the townspeople. Gregor remembered feeling her presence as a carriage drove into town. Predictably it stopped in front of his business/home.

He was surprised to see a young woman get out. He remembered her eyes, pale and afraid. She looked so fragile, so beautiful, his heart immediately went out to the young woman. The woman barely looked like she could hold a sword and certainly didn't look like she knew how to use one.

Gregor went to meet her, putting on his warmest smile. Soon the wariness left her eyes, the tenseness bled out of her muscles and they were flirting. He was invited to her home outside of town the following day.

The next day he could hear Lily screaming as his horse got close to the young woman's home. Even as he ran he could hear the sound of swords clashing against one another. Gregor remembered how he felt in that moment, seeing Lily there on her knees with another immortal's sword at her throat. He felt powerful. He would save her.

Gregor told the other immortal, a tall blonde man that he would be dead before his body hit the ground if he killed Lily. The man wisely chose not to pursue the matter. But Gregor…he felt like a prince in a fairly tale. He felt strong and in control of his life, for once. He liked it.

He moved in with Lily shortly afterward, for he had ever been a fool for love. Things had changed steadily from that point. Lily was manipulative. He could see now that her fragile flower routine was a farce, intended to appeal to his masculinity. He was tired of it. Tired of taking care of her and he was tired of the inequality of their relationship. He would look at her sometimes and see a calculating, cold mind staring back at him. This wasn't love, they were using each other.

Today he would leave, travel back towards the east coast. He couldn't bear to have a final fight. He would leave here a coward, a letter explaining his sudden absence.**

*End Flashback*

His sigh was heavy with foreboding. "So why Lily? What now?"

She laughed a dark depressing noise that resonated with Gregor's own dark past. "It's so cute that you've been playing house with the redhead. I'll admit he is quite fetching."

Gregor's stomach dropped, hearing her speak of Richie like he was a bug, insignificant. She must have registered his dread as a conniving smile broke across her face. "I imagine that he'll miss you terribly." Gregor hung his head. So she had come to kill him.

Her hand cupped his chin lightly, lifting it back up. "Oh, I'm not going to kill you lover." But then her grip tightened painfully and she practically spat her next words. "I'm going to destroy you. Your young lover will believe you left him and he'll hate you as much as I do. Maybe he'll come for your head; maybe I'll let him have it."

Richie got back late from the garage he worked at that night and was surprised to find the apartment dark and empty. He had expected Gregor to be back already, to have dinner and a smile waiting for him. He almost laughed at the domestic scene they presented.

The young immortal wasn't worried until a look at the refrigerator showed no note in the usual spot. A check of his cell phone showed that he hadn't missed a call either, but he took the opportunity to call Gregor's cell phone and his work phone. He spoke with a woman in his lover's office who said that the older man hadn't shown up at all, but his car wasn't at the apartment. The man must have gone somewhere. He went to Mac's loft out of desperation.

Gregor paced around the small room, his mind racing. The room may have looked old-fashioned but on closer inspection it was quite state of the art, and completely breakout proof. Everything was reinforced. His mind centered not on his predicament though but on his young lover. He knew Richie would be only too willing to believe that he had been abandoned. Gregor feared that this would be the final betrayal for the young man, the straw that broke the camel's back if you will. Gregor had promised not to leave, not to hurt the young man. The immortal threw himself at the closed door in a frenzy, bellowing his frustration.

Mac had made some phone calls but had found nothing. The Highlander was now sitting on his couch, watching his former student pace in front of it. Methos leaned against the window watching the scene with interest.

"Richie I know this isn't something that you want to hear, but you have to entertain the possibility that he left voluntarily."

Methos could see that the young man was getting tired of hearing that. Richie had adamantly refused to consider that Gregor had left him. He believed that Gregor loved him. The kid /needed/ to believe that. Mac just couldn't see it. Mac didn't see a lot of things that he didn't want to see.

The ancient immortal was jerked out of his own thoughts by the slam of a door. Richie had left, abruptly it seemed. Mac's head was in his hands and though he was obviously distraught, Methos didn't have any sympathy for the man. That was a switch, even during his time with Kronos, when he should have been worrying about himself; the Highlander was foremost in Methos's mind.

He sighed, pushing himself away from the window to stand in front of the couch and his lover. Thinking of MacLeod as his lover almost made him laugh out loud. The term was wholly inappropriate despite that they were having sex regularly. "Do you think that was wise, MacLeod?" The younger immortal's head lifted up to glare at the lanky figure in front of him. Methos shook his head, disgusted with the other man. "Richie needs to believe that Gregor loves him, that someone could love him enough not to leave him, that he's worthy of such love."

Mac's reaction was immediate. He shot off the couch, getting in Methos's face, his anger pouring off of him like water, "Of course he's worthy!"

"Really? Does Richie think that you love him? Have you ever told him? Did you tell him when he was living with you and Tessa? When /he/ and Tessa died, did you tell him then? When you sent him away after Mako or when he came back? After you tried to kill him for the second time? Or maybe one of his foster families gave him love and safety, maybe he found it on the streets…" Methos knew it was a low blow and he took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer tone, "He had a difficult childhood and I know that you tried to give him stability, a sense of responsibility, and I know you didn't mean to but in effect you repeated the pattern of rejection."

Duncan opened his mouth to protest but Methos cut him off. He had something to say and Mac was going to listen. "Richie doesn't need you to be the voice of realism right now, he needs your support. He needs you to trust his judgment and follow his lead and /if/ Gregor did leave, he'll need you to comfort him. The boy has kept too much inside for too long, a lesson you taught him."

Duncan was stunned and confused. He wasn't sure whether Methos was still talking about Richie or about himself. How many other friends had needed his 'support' as the old man said? He saw that Methos fairly vibrated with tension and the strain of control. Duncan reached for the lean figure of the man who had shared his bed for the past several months, wanting oddly enough to reassure the other man, but Methos moved away, skirting the bronzed arms as he headed for the door.

The ancient looked back once, his resolve slipping at the miserable expression on the other immortal's face, but he steeled himself and reached for the door handle. He had made more than enough concessions in this relationship.

Gregor lay on the still made bed, remembering the months he had spent with Richie since his return to Seacouver. It had almost been an entire year, he realized. He had moved to Seacouver shortly after their reunion. They both knew that Richie didn't have much time left in his hometown before his unchanging appearance would force him to stay away. Gregor wanted to give his young lover what time the young man had left.

He remembered how reticent Richie had been to being touched in affection. The first time they sat down to watch a movie together, Gregor had pulled the youth to his chest and wrapped his arms and legs around him. Richie had been stiff at first and gotten up several times to flit around the apartment before returning to the embrace. Now though, now they watched tv like that all the time. Gregor knew that the young man was still self-conscious about being held, but he also knew how much Richie loved it, needed it. The two men needed each other. They both needed to be taken care of and needed to take care of someone else.

Frankly, Gregor was surprised at how cuddly the younger immortal had turned out to be, knowing what he now knew. Richie was so innocent. That thought made Gregor actually laugh out loud, the sound echoing in the unfamiliar space. The younger immortal could find trouble in a box. The word innocent just didn't sound right used in the same sentence with Richie's name, but that was how Gregor thought of him. Richie had a willful determined innocence, innocence born not of ignorance but intimate knowledge of the world. He made Gregor think that innocence was never really lost, just misplaced, that no matter what happens it is still possible to look upon the world with wonder and trust in the goodness of humanity despite all evidence to the contrary. The only person Richie didn't have faith in was himself.

Gregor moved restlessly on the bed and despite its unfamiliarity it caused visions of many moments spent with Richie in their own bed to dance on the back of his eyelids. Richie had turned out to be a very considerate lover. It surprised him because of Richie's youth, the culture the other immortal had grown up in, and of course the young man's previous experiences. Richie could be inexplicably tender, all of the bravado gone yet there was still an underlying strength.

Gregor sighed as he turned onto his side. He could almost feel his lover's arms around him, hands caressing him, cock inside him. Richie had quickly learned just how Gregor wanted to be touched and filled. The younger man moved within him at just the right speed, the right angle, the right pressure…Gregor bit his bottom lip. The pain brought him back to his current surroundings, but he smiled in spite of himself. He hadn't realized that he had been stroking himself through his black slacks. He rolled onto his back again, picturing a specific memory of introducing his young lover to fisting.

Though not something that Gregor himself was particularly fond of, he had known that Richie would enjoy it for the sheer intensity of the sensations. The older immortal didn't know where the idea had come from but he had woken up that day thoroughly excited by the notion. He had given Richie hints all day, caressing, pinching, and even slapping his partner's derriere. Each time the redhead would look at him with a grin that was half amusement, half hunger. Gregor knew that it wasn't often that he took control of their sex life in such a blatant way. By the time Gregor initiated anything more, he was sure Richie was half out of his mind with need.

It had been a Sunday and they had gone about their business as usual, puttering around their apartment but the excitement was building all the while. Finally Gregor had caught the younger immortal's hand as they passed each other in the hallway, and swiftly pulled the redhead into the bedroom. Richie had laughed and feigned protest. Gregor loved that laugh, light and easy, genuine.

Once in the bedroom Gregor had begun slowly, kissing his partner tenderly and undressing Richie with care. He thwarted the youth's attempts to reciprocate the caresses. The older man knew Richie was wondering what was up and desperate to accelerate the pace. The young man relaxed slowly under Gregor's ministrations, giving himself up to simply feeling. Gregor made his caresses tender but sure; almost half massage intended to keep his partner's desire simmering. At last he spoke into his lover's ear; the moist heat of his breath was arousing he knew. "I want to fist you." He pulled back to look into those blue eyes. He hadn't made it a question; he wanted to project confidence so that Richie wouldn't be nervous.

Richie's eyes definitely showed excitement at the idea, though there was still a touch of anxiety. Then again Richie was always a little anxious, a remnant from his traumatic childhood that began with Emily's death. The young man rolled over, breaking their eye contact and moving to his hands and knees. That made Gregor smile, it was so like him, uncertain and yet bold.

Gregor had prepared the area in advance, stashing lube and towels under the bed. He began slowly, entering Richie with only a single finger. He rotated it slowly, pressing on the inner gland at random intervals, slowly pulling it out and reinserting it. He knew that the redhead was already thinking ahead, anticipating more, but he wanted Richie to just relax and feel everything. He knew the moment that the youth let go, the younger immortal's breath caught and he had to hold the pale hips to prevent their unconscious movement. Only then did he add a second finger with a good deal more lubricant.

By the time that Gregor was inserting all of his fingers in a beak shape; Richie was leaning on his elbows and breathing deeply. The older immortal rotated his hand slowly, and then he began pushing his fingers in up to the knuckle, the motion rocking the redhead rhythmically.

When his knuckles disappeared inside the other man, Gregor didn't know who moaned the loudest. He quickly balled his hand into a fist and then waited for them both to adjust and savor the feeling. Gregor reveled in the feeling of connection. He just stared at where their bodies met, saw how his arm seemed to disappear into the man he loved so much. Slowly he rotated his hand. His knuckles grazed Richie's prostate as he massaged the inner walls.

Richie let out a high pitched moan, almost a keening wail. The older immortal watched as his partner lifted up on his hands and rolled his hips forward. Sweat had broken out all over his body, running down the lines of the young man's muscles which were trembling. And now he was wailing almost continuously. Gregor reached under the other man to pull at Richie's leaking cock. The youth's back arched, pushing himself into the contact. He was coming, Gregor knew before the wet warmth hit his hand. It was a long buildup, during which Richie stopped making any noises. To Gregor it sounded like the young man literally couldn't breathe.

He had waited a few minutes for the young man's spasming to stop before carefully removing his hand. Richie's body jerked at the sensations to his over-sensitized skin. Gregor was fairly sure he wasn't even aware of the older immortal cleaning them both up. Then Gregor had slid into the bed, pulling a very sweaty and exhausted Richie to his chest. Despite that the kid had still reached for his partner's now softening member. Gregor moved his hand away.

"But you didn't cum," Richie had said.

Gregor tightened his arms, smiling broadly with love, "It doesn't matter."

Richie entered the empty and dark apartment, their apartment not bothering to turn on a light. Right then it didn't seem like a place where people lived and loved, it seemed like a mausoleum, like a museum to a life that could have been. Gregor had been like no one he had ever known. He seemed like a cross between the stereotypical young professional and an unassuming wallflower.

Richie had learned in his Intro to Psych course how people respond to traumatic experiences. Gregor was the depression to his own anxiety. The older man was the reason Richie was in school at all, after all the years that Mac had tried to convince him to no avail. Richie had always felt that there were plenty of things that couldn't be learned in books and he didn't want to seem like something he wasn't. But all of a sudden he felt like there was a reason to be more, learn more. He had accepted more of himself since Gregor had come back. Now that Sean Burns was gone…maybe Richie had a purpose and more importantly a future. He wanted to believe that everything he had gone through would come to be useful in some way to the future he wanted to have with the other immortal.

He glanced at the desk chair, where Gregor had given him a 'study break' many a time. The younger immortal being thoroughly frustrated would look over at his lover who would be doing the most mundane things like making dinner in the small kitchen or reading on the couch, but Richie would be overcome with love for the older man. Love and lust.

Gregor would inevitably lift his head and catch the eyes watching him, and smile. The older immortal would put down whatever he was doing and walk over to Richie who would lean back in the chair, looking up into dark eyes as Gregor's weight settled on top of him. Then he would wrap his hand around the other man's neck and pull the dark head into a bruising kiss before sliding his tongue into that hot cavern which would remind him of other things.

His hands would roam over the shirt Gregor wore and then move down to cup the man's rigid sex through trousers. Gregor would break the kiss to gasp in much needed air, but Richie would continue his advances, sucking hard on the pale throat and rubbing his palm over the man's cock. When Richie's thumb began rubbing concentrated circles over the damp head, Gregor would get off, stand up and rip off his clothes. Richie would do the same, not moving from the chair though. All the while their eyes would stay locked together in shared desire.

Then Gregor would reseat himself on Richie's lap and the younger man would begin flicking his tongue over one of his partner's nipples. Richie would suck it into his mouth gently and then harder, biting until he could feel his partner's hand holding his head in place and Gregor's cock leaking and rubbing against his abdomen. Then he would move to the other nipple and begin again until Gregor would grab the lube from the desk drawer and press it roughly into Richie's hand.

Richie would always smile then and tilt his face upward for another kiss. Gregor would lift his weight off Richie and watch transfixed as the younger man applied the lubricant to his aching cock and then grip the older immortal's hips. Slowly Gregor would impale himself. And then… "Oh Richie."

"Yes."

"Unh…"

"There?"

"Oh God yes."

Gregor would lay one of his hands on Richie's chest as he increased his movements, the younger man meeting him at the bottom with a thrust of his own. Gregor's other hand would pump his own cock, a sight that always went straight to Richie's own groin. And then his lover's dark head would fall back with a cry and his seed would spill onto Richie's lap and furred abdomen as the younger man followed with his own cry of completion. Yes it was a good chair.

Richie moved into the bedroom still thinking of Gregor. He looked down at the old-fashioned quilt covering their bed. The older immortal was not as modern as Richie had first assumed. He was a fairly young immortal yes at only about two hundred years old; however he grew up in the Victorian era. He still had that air about him. Gregor was a gentleman with a soft voice and a soft touch. Not that the man wasn't strong, capable, or even powerful, and Gregor could certainly do angry and violent. But Richie thought that his lover had a sort of 'inside' quality that American boys didn't have today, certainly not those that had grown up in the system like himself. Gregor acted as if he was used to being in drawing rooms surrounded by fragile female flowers prone to hysterics. He was the calm to Richie's storm and the adult to Richie's perpetual teenager. But Richie didn't feel inferior to the older immortal, he felt like they balanced.

Richie stared at the bed, afraid to even touch it really. He certainly didn't want to lie in it alone. He thought of all the times that they had lain in this bed together. He could almost feel the heat of Gregor's chest under his cheek, hear the beat of the other man's heart as they drifted to sleep. He could picture the older immortal beneath him as he thrust into Gregor's willing body. To hear the man's cries of pleasure, to watch his beautiful lover thrash in ecstasy and know that he was the cause, made Richie's heart swell. But now all he felt was an almost physical ache of loss.

He remembered a specific night that he had come home late from the library. His lover had been coming out of the bedroom and they met in the hallway. Richie had been about to launch into an apology for not calling but Gregor had gripped his jaw and plundered his mouth without preamble. Richie caught his lover's frenzy quickly and they never made it past the hallway. They just started shucking their clothes as they took turns trying to press the other into the wall before falling onto the floor still tangled together.

Then Gregor had turned over, positioned himself on his knees and elbows. Richie could still hear the words, "Richie please…" The younger man had heard everything in those words. He had heard lust and desperation and need. Gregor needed him, needed what he gave the older immortal, needed his passion, his acceptance, his love and his joy. And Richie wanted to give Gregor everything.

And the feel of being inside the older man, so tight and hot and welcoming, and the sight, Richie loved to watch his fingers or his cock disappearing inside the pale beautiful body, knowing that they were connected. Richie blushed remembered the feel of Gregor's cock inside him even though he was alone in a darkened room. The young man had never thought he'd ever be able to do that, to give himself in that way, much less enjoy it. With Gregor, he forgot that anyone had ever hurt him. Richie was startled by a knock at the door.

Methos was standing outside of Richie and Gregor's apartment building when Duncan pulled up. He had parked far enough away that Duncan wouldn't be able to see his car and neither immortal would feel his signature. He watched the Highlander go inside and sighed. He didn't know why Gregor's disappearance was affecting him so much. He supposed it was just because the two young immortals deserved to be happy, deserved the happiness that he himself longed for. He got back in his car. He had already made some phone calls, but he wanted to do some looking for himself.

A sullen Richie opened the door. Duncan stepped in silently, letting his eyes roam the apartment, noting that it was dark. He glanced back at Richie closing the door. There was so much distance between them now. Some of it caused by forces outside either of their control and some put there by Duncan in an attempt not to let either of them be too attached. There was the Game to consider.

But now all Duncan could think of was how much he wished he could take it all back, remove all that distance. Richie was much more than a student to Duncan, for better or worse he was the closest thing to a son Duncan would ever have. He wanted to enfold the boy in his arms and tell him everything would be alright, so that's what he did.

Richie stiffened as Duncan's arms came around him. Duncan didn't care just held tighter. Eventually the youth relaxed into the embrace and after another length of time, arms came up to wrap around the bigger man. Duncan held tighter then he spoke, whispering as it seemed appropriate here in the dark, "Everything's going to be ok, we'll find him. I'm sure he's fine."

With those words, the redhead slumped in his arms. As Duncan maneuvered them to the couch he thought of Methos. The old bastard had been right. He and Richie sat up all night, talking of how to go about looking for Gregor and then just sitting. Duncan knew that Richie did not want to be alone and so he stayed and gave what comfort he could, more comfort than he had given the boy in a long time.

Two days later, Gregor was walking a familiar path in his room, around the bed, past the windows, into the adjoining bathroom and back to the bed. He was deep into his melancholy. Then Lily came in. Gregor could see the massive bodyguards behind her with weapons drawn. She had come in three times a day bringing food, with plastic silverware. But it was not mealtime now. Her fine features were drawn into a scowl as she rushed into the room, waiting for the door to close before speaking.

"Plans have changed," her words were brisk and they clearly irritated her. Gregor's mood brightened in long-forgotten hope. It must have shown on his face, as she suddenly stopped pacing and looked directly at him. Indignation shined in her eyes. "Yes your boy-toy is not giving up on his search for you. He's scouring the city refusing to believe that you left voluntarily."

His heart was surely floating away, but she continued speaking and he was late noting her changed expression. Now she looked triumphant. "Don't worry lover, this way you'll get to watch him suffer. If he's so devoted he can die for you!" With that she opened the door and the guards barged in, tying him up and dragging him downstairs.

Duncan and Richie stood outside of a warehouse as night was falling. Richie had received a phone call from an unknown man telling him to be here at this time or Gregor would die. He was further instructed to go inside the warehouse alone and without his shoes or Gregor would die. But he could bring his sword. He had begged to speak to Gregor, to have some sign that the man was still alive, but the unknown challenger had refused. Duncan was still trying to talk him out of going inside.

"You don't know what's in there, much less who set this up. You don't know if Gregor's still alive or even if he was really kidnapped!"

Richie turned and looked at his mentor. He hoped that his eyes showed his answer to Duncan's concerns. It didn't matter, they had come up with no other way and Richie would be damned if Gregor died because he didn't follow the instructions. Duncan should understand the feeling. The older immortal apparently did understand because he quietly bowed his head, but Richie heard an unmistakable sniffle.

"Oh god," Richie thought as he wrapped his arms around the Highlander's neck, feeling the other man's tears wet his t-shirt. He didn't know whether he could handle Mac's pain and guilt on top of everything else. With a shaky breath he stepped away and the dark head lifted to watch him go with wet eyes. Without accusation the younger man thought that Mac now comprehended how he and Tessa felt so many times during that long year and half that they had been together. "Don't follow me," was all the younger man could think to say as he turned toward the door.

Duncan waited, watching the door close behind the young man. As he was turning toward the car, he heard a shotgun blast and he stopped, rigid he waited. But he heard nothing more. To continue walking to the T-bird was the hardest thing Duncan had ever done much less sitting there in the car waiting either for Richie or Gregor to come out or for a quickening to begin.

But he understood, Richie needed to do this. Duncan would have done the same in the youth's place, unable to risk any harm to a loved one. He thought of Methos. Where was the old man? Why had he stood up for Richie, helped Duncan's relationship with the boy? What would Duncan do if Methos were taken?

Gregor watched on a tv set as Richie entered what appeared to be a long corridor but was actually a maze. A maze to torture Richie because Gregor loved him. Gregor flinched as a hidden shotgun discharged into the redhead's chest, tearing a giant hole there. The young man died quickly falling to the floor and it would be a while before he woke again. When he did the torture would continue. Gregor remembered Lily's words, she had said that by the end Richie "would be begging for death."

Richie woke and his hands immediately went to his chest. He felt the shredded edges of the hole in his cotton t-shirt, a hole the size of a basketball he thought. The blood was tacky now and he could feel it pulling on his chest hair as he stood. It was dark in the hallway still as he resumed walking forward. In a matter of steps the corridor turned right and Richie could feel water on the floor through his socks.

Belatedly he realized the water must be there for some reason other than there was a leak. Still he was surprised by the shock that he suddenly felt. Richie had been in enough homes with faulty wiring to recognize the sensation, he was being electrocuted. He was shocked again and again. He knew he should get out of there quick but every shock paralyzed him momentarily and it was difficult to get his muscles to cooperate. Holding onto a metal sword wasn't helping, he could feel the hilt getting hot but he refused to release it.

Finally he turned another corner. His eyes flitted around nervously, searching for the trap. He heard a whoosh of air and turned just in time to get hit in the face with what felt like a wooden log. The blow lifted him right off his feet and he fell on his back with a thud and a clank. Before he had even thought about moving, a heavy stone cylinder fell on top of his legs.

Richie's upper body curled up as he cried out from the pain. Gregor watched as the younger immortal shoved uselessly at the cylinder pinning his legs. Then Richie paused, taking several deep breaths to settle himself and then pushing with concentrated effort that caused the cylinder to roll off the man.

The redhead flipped onto his stomach and began crawling immediately despite his still useless legs. Richie must be afraid of what other horrors awaited if he dallied. Both Gregor and his lover were surprised however when a trapdoor suddenly opened under Richie and he fell into darkness. Lily snickered as she pressed buttons on the remote control until, they could see Richie's form glowing green in the camera's night vision.

Richie's body hit the dirt floor with a thud, the pain from his injured legs almost causing him to black out. His whole body tensed. He waited for the pain to subside at least a little, enough for him to open his eyes and find out where the fuck he was now and what the hell he was in for.

His body stiffened at the brush of something cool against his arm, which miraculously still held his sword. Holding very still, he felt it again, inside his pant leg and then another slithering over his back. Realization suddenly struck and his eyes opened wide in response.

Snakes! He hated snakes! He felt like he couldn't take a full breath, he was so scared of moving. But then he felt one brush his face and he couldn't help it, he screamed and jerked and he could hear the hisses and feel the bites…

Gregor watched horrified. Stuck in a pit with snakes! How did she think of this nightmarish stuff? Why would anyone do this to another person? And to Richie? Richie has always been reckless, despite that he had confessed to Gregor long ago that he was afraid of death. Then Gregor had delighted in the admission, now he respected the young man for admitting it. His lover didn't need this now.

Richie had had enough fear in his life, fear of people who were supposed to protect him, fear of being abandoned, fear that no one cared what happened to him, fear of where his next meal was coming from. The young man didn't need to be afraid of things that went bump in the night. Gregor couldn't imagine what his lover was feeling now and what damage there would be if they ever got out of here. Course they needed to get out of here first and the only way appeared to be if Richie managed to survive this obstacle course with his sanity and his sword-arm still intact.

Richie was so still, it became clear that he must have died meaning that there were poisonous snakes in there. Gregor waited. After a death and several injuries, he knew it might take a while. The older immortal didn't know if his own sanity would survive this torture. Here he was bound to a chair, watching his lover be tortured with pain and fear and suspense. He was unable to do anything more than hope that the young man was strong enough to save them both. He felt angry and pathetic and weak, uncomfortably close to how he felt when he attacked Richie all those years ago.

Then the figure on the screen stirred. Richie began to lift his head and then stilled, probably remembering his predicament. Without warning the young man moved into a crouched position and then leapt upward, throwing his sword over the top and gripping the edge to pull himself up over the trap.

Gregor was amazed and frankly so was Lily. Richie lay there, breathing heavily and the older immortal couldn't tell if his lover was injured or simply taking a moment to collect himself. Apparently it was the latter as Richie got determinedly to his feet and picked up his sword, moving confidently onward.

Richie was pissed. If they, whoever they were thought that he would be intimidated by a little pain, or even snakes, they were wrong. And when he found them, he was going to show them just how much they had underestimated him.

The only thought that intruded upon his need for revenge was that they might have tortured Gregor like this. Richie didn't know how the older immortal would respond to this feeling of helplessness, didn't know if Gregor could handle being forced to submit to another's whims. In the end, those thoughts only strengthened his resolve and forced him to move quickly.

As he turned the next corner, he was surrounded by tile, tiled walls and tiled floors and even ceiling. He turned at the sound of a door shutting behind him and then again in front of him. The hiss of gas entering the room clued Richie in. Knowing resistance was futile, he stepped closer to the gas jets and breathed deeply, feeling like he hadn't breathed air at all, he began to choke. Pained he dropped to his knees, still straining for breath but suddenly there was no air anywhere in the room. He felt like his head was going to explode before he passed, succumbing to the welcoming darkness still cursing his unnamed assailant.

When he woke, he could breathe again and both doors were open. He trudged on, his mind only barely registering a pinprick in his left shoulder until there was another. Irritated he swiped at the spot, his hand brushing against something sticking out of his skin. He stopped and removed a dart from his shoulder. Growling he threw it at the surrounding walls. He hesitated. He didn't know anything about poisons or what to expect. Cautiously he continued walking, making it to the end of the next corridor before feeling any ill effects.

He had been monitoring every twitch his body made, certain that it was just his imagination working overtime. But this was not his imagination. The spasms began in Richie's neck and worked downward until he was lying on the ground and they had spread to every muscle in his body. He had no idea how long it continued, the young immortal only knew that they continued to get worse and worse. His back seemed permanently arched against the concrete floor and he prayed for either death or his healing powers to end this torture. Eventually he succumbed to the blackness.

Gregor retched onto the floor in front of his chair. Richie had been convulsing painfully for more than an hour now. The older immortal had no idea whether the young man had passed out yet but he fervently hoped so. Lifting his eyes to the screen again, he saw the body he worshipped finally freeze in death, mid-convulsion. Where would Lily have gotten strychnine? He barely noticed as one of the guards was forced to clean up the mess he had made in front of the tv.

Richie woke and stood again, wearing his frustration at his helplessness like an old cloak. He was bone weary. He had no idea how long he had been in this hellhole or what other torments were being visited on the lover he had come to save. He smelled the scent of burnt carbon before he turned the next corner.

He found himself face to face with a fire pit like you see on those discovery specials about yogis in the far east that manage not to get burned. Richie didn't think he would be so lucky. Dragging the sword behind him now, he took a step forward. The pit was as wide as the room and very long, too long to jump over no matter how much of a running start he got.

His face tightened in determination. He would be damned if he gave in, he would not turn back, would not abandon Gregor no matter how many obstacles were put in his path. He loved the man and if this was how he had to prove it, then that's the way he would. Clutching his sword to his chest he took the first step forward.

Gregor averted his face at the sight before him. Richie was trying to run across burning hot coals! But that wasn't all. Wooden clubs began lashing out at the young man, one sending him to his knees in a flash of red sparks. He both wished that he could hear Richie and was intensely grateful that he could not. Richie crawled, trying to get to his feet but refusing to stop moving long enough to do so successfully.

As the redhead reached the end of the coals, he was forced to push open a door. Gregor turned to his left realizing that the door there was opening. Richie was coming in here, he made it!

Gregor attempted to stand up as the young man collapsed out the other side of the door, but the hands of several guards stopped him. Still he called to his lover, "Richie!"

His lover's head jerked up and wild eyes locked onto him. Even from here, Gregor could smell the hideous odor of burnt flesh. Richie couldn't stand, but he still held his sword though his right forearm was burnt from where he had tried to catch his body weight. He looked like a wild animal, feral and angry. Gregor didn't notice Lily moving away until he stood in front of Richie.

Abruptly there was the press of steel against Gregor's neck. Richie's eyes seemed impossibly blue in his bloodless face as they flicked between Gregor and the unknown woman. He seemed caught between fear and anger now.

"Put down your sword," Lily's voice broke the silence and now Richie's eyes showed undiluted anger as they turned to her.

"Who are you? What do you want, I thought this was a challenge…Dammit fight me!"

"Put down your sword or Gregor dies." Lily's voice was calm as if she didn't care which man met their end today. Richie's eyes focused on the man holding a sword to his lover's vulnerable neck and the anger bled out of his eyes and then his entire body. The young immortal's body now read complete submission, resignation that despite all of his courage there was nothing left to do.

Richie threw his sword away. "Kill me." His voice was remorseless, hopeless. "Take my life instead, just please, let Gregor go."

Richie closed his eyes as Lily's laughter grated over him. "Of course," she said placing her own sword at the redhead's neck. "Right after he witnesses your death."

The sword was removed from Gregor's neck and replaced with a gun to his temple. Tears flowed from his eyes unchecked. Lily had been right. Richie had begged to die at the end, to spare his lover's life, and Gregor would be utterly destroyed. And he could think of nothing that would stop her.

But then a man appeared behind her. A tall, slim man who seemed to simply coalesce from the shadows of the warehouse, and now held a sword to Lily's neck.

"Let them go." The voice of the man was frighteningly cold. In the voice and in the man's rigidly held body, Gregor saw a vast power, a coiled leashed strength. He had never seen a living person so still.

Lily removed her sword from Richie's neck and Gregor ran to him, heedless of the gunman behind him. The young man seemed stunned as Gregor crushed him in an embrace, slowly his hands are brought up to return the hug. Only then did Gregor remember the pain the other man was probably in.

"Get out of here." It took Gregor a second to realize the man was talking to him and Richie. Richie seemed unfazed.

"Get my sword," the redhead whispered as Gregor attempted to help him to his feet, his most decidedly still burnt feet. Gregor ran to get the sword quickly before half dragging his lover out the door to the warehouse. It was early morning and he was surprised to see MacLeod's T-bird in the parking lot.

The Highlander jogged over to the two men immediately, ponytail bouncing as he did. He picked the redhead up like a child and Gregor rushed to keep up, not wanting to be separated for a moment.

Richie was oddly comfortable being fussed over for once, but he knew Mac was waiting to know what had happened. "Methos is in there." It was all he needed to say. Mac's eyes were suddenly bright and hard and he raced back towards the building. Richie sighed wondering what was going on between the two older immortals vaguely before relaxing against Gregor's firm chest and letting his partner pet him anxiously.

Duncan barged in through the door that Richie had come out of, not the door the young man had gone in through. He immediately saw Methos. The ancient immortal was standing tall and looking as powerful as Duncan had ever seen. It was a sign of Methos's strong emotions that he would so completely drop his 'Adam' act.

The hazel eyes spared not a glance in his direction as Duncan approached, but when he was close, Methos's voice called out to him. "Take them home, Duncan."

But Duncan felt confused. What was going on here? Methos was obviously prepared to take this woman's head, who was she? And did she deserve it? At least she still had a weapon in her hand but…He opened his mouth but Methos cut him off again.

"Take them home and I will meet you at the loft. After." In other words, the eldest immortal would do as he damn well pleased and Duncan didn't have to like it. Fine. He turned on his heel and left.

Duncan went back to the car and saw the two younger men huddled together in the backseat, whispering and crying, each trying to soothe the other with words and touches. For some reason, the sight wrenched Duncan's heart and his stomach dropped. Woodenly he climbed into the driver's seat. He managed to get most of the story out of them on the way to their apartment.

The two younger immortals stumbled into their still dark apartment, too wrapped around one another to maneuver effectively. Gregor was still worried about his young lover, worried about Richie's emotions and his battered body. It wasn't until Richie pushed him face forward into the hallway wall that the older immortal realized that his young lover didn't need to be cared for tonight. Richie needed to mark Gregor, to reassert his presence in his lover's life, his possession of the older immortal.

So Gregor let his head fall back, opening himself to his lover's touch. "Yes, Richie I need you." He heard and felt Richie's groan. Richie was pressed so close against Gregor that the older man could feel the sound rumbling out of the youth's chest and the hot breath blew past his ear. The slender hands slid down Gregor's chest and gripped his sex possessively. Then Richie's hands were gripping his wrists, tight and yanking him into the bedroom.

They fell heavily onto the still made bed, Richie immediately rolling on top of the older immortal. Frantic, they ripped off Gregor's clothing together, the hands of one getting in the way of the other. It was when Gregor reached for the hem of Richie's t-shirt that everything came back to him, the events of the previous night registering in their entirety. Richie had almost died. They had almost run out of chances. No more nights spent in each other arms, no more waking up in a tangle of limbs, no more days spent wondering what Richie was doing at that moment or anticipating being able to share exciting news with the redhead, no more fights or playful wrestling or quiet time spent in each other's presence. No more.

Richie's clothing still bore the painful reminders. His shirt a mere rag hanging onto sculpted shoulders by threads, crusted with blood. Jeans that disappeared at about the knees, having been burnt off. And the smell, Gregor could barely smell his lover's unique scent as it was overpowered by the smell of the young man's many deaths. The smell of blood and burnt carbon permeated the small bedroom.

Gregor hadn't realized that he'd been crying, only now becoming aware the Richie was comforting him. Hands still smeared with blood were caressing his face and stroking his back, lips that had recently screamed in fear and cried out in agony kissed his face. And Gregor didn't care, he did need Richie, needed him more than Gregor needed his next breath.

Recovering from his stupor he began literally ripping the clothes of his partner. Richie was still shushing him, still gentling him, but it didn't even slow the older man's attempts to get them as close as possible as quickly as possible. He reached back to the bedside table, thrusting the tube of lubricant into Richie's surprised hand. A litany of words poured from his lips as Richie prepared him, "I need you, need you, need you, need you…" And then it had been Richie who cried as they joined.

Duncan paced around the loft, staring at the bed that hadn't been slept in. He was waiting, waiting for Methos. Had it really been only two days since Methos had been here in his loft, in Duncan's bed? It seemed so much longer.

He waited at the door to the stairs as soon as he felt the ancient quickening. Methos looked tired, resigned. Duncan could feel the anticipation in the air as he waited for whatever the other man had come to say.

"I'm leaving. I thought you deserved to be told in person."

Duncan just nodded, numb. Methos's gaze was intense, measuring him as if all the secrets of his soul had been laid bare. The younger immortal felt suddenly as if he had miscalculated everything, misunderstood something vital. But then the lanky figure simply left as quickly and quietly as the man had come, leaving Duncan in his thoughts.


End file.
